"Puppet Master"
Chapter Ten -"Reading over the Playbill"
By: Purpleu
House put down his glass of whiskey on the coffee table as he passed by on his way down the hall. Lydia stood in stunned silence for a moment, then quickly followed him. When she reached the bedroom door, House had already put on his glasses and was searching through the pages of the report he had been reading.
"Where the hell did I see that?" he said as he leafed through the file.
"Didn't you look at this one, too?" Lydia asked as she handed him another packet of papers. House glanced at the paperwork.
"No, I didn't get the chance to look at that one. Here," House said folding back some pages to reveal an EEG printout. "Spikes and sharp waves in the occipital leads, probably when the kid closed or blinked his eyes." Lydia sat down beside House on the bed. "Symmetrical high voltage rhythm. All of these EEG's are showing the higher levels of spiking you'd expect with Angelman, but they're to the low end of abnormal." House rolled the report up and sat hunched over, contemplating what the results meant.
"What are you thinking?" asked Lydia after a few minutes.
"With Angelman Syndrome, the majority of patients have severe mental disabilities; but they would also have much higher amplitudes showing on the EEG." Lydia assumed the same hunched over position that House was in; she interlaced her fingers and rested her chin on her hands with her elbows on her knees.
"You said that the boy obviously dislikes his father, as evidenced by his inappropriate actions toward him."
"I never said that the kid head butting his father in the groin was inappropriate; we're talking about Malcolm Hunter." Lydia chuckled.
"You'll get no argument from me," she said. "And everyone else in the room, he acted positively with." House nodded. Lydia sat up straight. "He's making a conscious choice. And if he's capable of making a choice…."
"Then there's a certain level of cognitive ability present," House said finishing Lydia's sentence. "He understands, to certain extent, what's happening."
"Sometimes, with children who have autism, their ability to understand what is said to them is far greater than their ability to respond. It's true of people who have received neurological damage from a head injury or other brain disorders," Lydia said, looking at House. He looked down at the floor and then over at her. "He also has whatever disabilities the cerebral palsy has given him. That he has been denied proper therapy-physical, occupational and speech-for years, has probably set him back tremendously."
"Yes, Dr. House knows all of that, Dr. Strohman," he said mockingly. "Dr. House finished medical school." House saw from Lydia's reaction that he hit a nerve with what he said. Damn, he said to himself, I should have known better than to bust her chops on that subject; the circumstances weren't her fault. "How many credits did you have left? Fifteen? Eighteen?"
"Ten. Cellular Biology and Molecular Biology which were three credits each and Genetics which was a four credit course. I had done an internship at the Wilmer Eye Institute at Hopkins and assisted in research for a paper published through Georgetown on infectious diseases. I volunteered at the Greater Baltimore Women's Health Center among other places; I needed forty more clinical hours and I would have finished my pre-med work with a degree in Biology. If I kept up the same level of work I had been doing the previous three and a half years, I would have graduated with a four-point-0, Phi Beta Kappa," Lydia said wistfully. House sat stunned. He knew she was incredibly bright; it was one of the things that continually attracted him to her. But he had to keep asking himself how she could have allowed her ex to treat her the way he did. He hung his head down; as much as he would want to turn the conversation onto Lydia's past marital woes to get some answers, now wasn't the time.
"What was your MCAT score?" House asked referring to the medical school admission test.
"Forty-five." House smiled.
"You got a perfect score," he noted.
"I'm sure you did, too," Lydia said.
"Yeah, but I didn't graduate with a four-point-0." Lydia shrugged and shook her head.
"Neither did I," she said sadly.
"Maybe someday you can grab some night courses, finish up your bachelor's degree; the clinic at the hospital has taken in volunteers from Princeton U's Pre-Med program. You could look into that," House offered. Lydia laughed.
"I'll put it on my list of things to do after taking my kids to school, to soccer and lacrosse practice, piano lessons, doing homework with them, cooking, cleaning, hopefully holding down a decent job, making up for lost time with my best friend and maintaining a solid, loving relationship with the man I love." House put down the report, removed his glasses and took Lydia's hand.
"You're not alone anymore," he said. "You've got Annie; hell, Wilson would help out just to breathe the same air as her. You've got me. I'm not going to pretend I'm any good with kids; the thought of meeting yours terrifies me. I'm not even so much afraid of me not liking them," said House as he looked at Lydia. "If they're anything like you, I'll be OK. What I'm really afraid of is that they won't like me, that I'll somehow hurt or alienate them, and this will all fall apart," he said with a concerned look.
"Greg, you are an overgrown kid yourself. That's what gets you into trouble a lot of the time," Lydia said as she reached up and stroked the back of his head. "Talk about sports and monster trucks with Ben; believe it or not even Elise likes some of the trucks especially that Undertaker…"
"Gravedigger," House corrected her.
"That's it. Her room is lavender and has all these very girly decorations…and a poster of that truck hanging up on the wall." House chuckled. "Now, that's not to say she doesn't like to have a tea party with her dolls…"
"Can it be a Boston Tea Party?"
"A what?"
"A Boston Tea party," House repeated. "You know, where Barbie and Ken have tiny muskets and Betsy Wetsy is dealing with the saltpeter?" Lydia shook her head and rested her forehead in her hands. "Aren't the Cabbage Patch Dolls at home rolling bandages?"
"No, they are not," Lydia said firmly as she started to laugh. "Look, they both love the piano and music in general, they are bright and despite everything that's gone on with their father, they are happy kids. Just relax and be yourself. They are quite enamored of the fact that you're a doctor; Ben asked me if you've ever been up to your elbows in anyone's guts. I told him you'd have to answer that for him." House had an evil twinkle in his eyes as he chuckled.
"I like your son more and more. Glad you told me about his question; that way I'll have time to give him a proper answer." Lydia gave House a look.
"I think you'd better run that answer past me first," she said trying hard not to give House the satisfaction of making her laugh.
"Spoilsport."
"Enough! My kids won't even be here for another week and a half. We need to get back to your case. Are the test results and information that you have here," Lydia said indicating the report, "conclusive to a diagnosis of Angelman Syndrome? Or is there a loophole that Hunter can plow into?" House shook his head.
"It's not one hundred percent conclusive; genetic testing is needed to confirm the diagnosis and that's going to take three to four weeks. Clinical observations can help push the diagnosis in the right direction; the problem with them is they're not quantitative and too open to interpretation." House stood up. "Even if we prove that the kid has Angelman's, show that it wasn't caused by the accident, prove that the kid has had CP all along, Hunter neither loses nor gains anything in his efforts to try and get to me. I haven't figured his angle on this yet." Starting toward the bedroom door, House turned to Lydia. "I'm going to go grab the whiskey. I need something to help me think."
"I'll go with you; I want to get my water," Lydia said. She followed House down the hall to the living room. Looking around, she saw that the bottle was on the bookshelves, next to the whiskey. As Lydia glanced into the kitchen, she saw the time on the microwave was twelve-thirty. They both needed some rest, but she knew when House was wrapped up in a case, he was hard to reason with. She was going to be tired for her two interviews, but she wasn't about to abandon him.
"I heard you and James saying something about Friday. What happens then?"
"'House wrecking starts this morning' is what Hunter put on the firm's calendar for Friday. Davidson told us earlier that Hunter was giving us until Friday, but not in such graphic terms," House said grimly. Lydia was dumbfounded.
"Greg, please tell me the truth; what did you do to piss this guy off so much? You told me how you two had argued through letters you sent to a magazine or journal, but…"
"Why does everyone assume I did something to piss him off? Thirteen asked me the same thing earlier," House said as he moved away from the bookcase. "I exist. That is the sum and total of what Hunter has against me. Every time someone wanted to file a lawsuit against me with Hunter as their lawyer, either the hospital settled or Cuddy or some other rep from the hospital talked the patient out of it. I'm the one that got away." House let out a deep sigh. "I've never heard of him losing a case. He's legendary within the legal profession." Lydia walked over to where House stood at the end of the coffee table and took his hand.
"And you're legendary in the medical profession. Which is why going after you and succeeding would be a real feather in his cap." Lydia sighed. "I guess I answered my own question." House let go of Lydia's hand and started to pace the room, holding his leg as he did. "He's got to have a weak spot; no one is perfect all the time," Lydia said. He stopped walking to turn and face Lydia.
"He gave two different reasons why he was bringing his son in; either he slipped or he's got something devious he plans on pulling out of his butt."
"What do you mean?"
"When Davidson spoke to Wilson and Foreman this morning, he said it was a genetic disorder from birth. When we get to the kid's hospital room, all Hunter could do was talk about the fact that the accident caused any of the problems the kid has. If anyone even tried to discuss the kid's medical history, he cut them off at the knees; which with Taub wasn't such a hard thing to do." Lydia looked thoughtful as she sat down on the couch.
"Hunter didn't give you two different reasons why his son was being brought in," she said. "Davidson gave James and Dr. Foreman the reason why Mrs. Hunter wanted her son to be seen. She truly wants help for her son. That's an entirely different reason than why Mr. Hunter brought him in." House sat down next to Lydia; he was clearly agitated, tapping his fingers rapidly on the table.
"I know why Hunter brought him in; I'm just trying to figure out how he plans on nailing me."
"Rather than using your time on a defense, plan your offense against him," Lydia suggested. "Organize the information on how he withheld therapies when his son was younger, detail the medical records he falsely presented to the court. Maybe go to your legal team at the hospital…." House interrupted her.
"Those ideas would all be hunky dory and spiffy except for one thing: we know all the information from a file that was illegally taken from Hunter's office." Lydia sat back on the couch and put her hands up to rub her face.
"I forgot; Davidson may work for him, but has no right to remove anything from Hunter's office without permission." House, who had put his drink on the table and slumped back into a reclining position, suddenly bolted upright.
"Davidson has no right, but Mommykins does," said House. "When I checked him out on line, I saw that his practice was set up as a corporation. You need three people to set up a corporation; other than Hunter, and his father-in-law, guess who else is a big, bad corporate giant?"
"Mrs. Hunter," Lydia said with a smile.
"Correct-a-mundo as the Fonz used to say. Davidson can go back in and get the file under her direction or better yet, she can go get it herself; it concerns her son, she has every right to have it in her possession. Wilson or Forman can talk to our legal department, reassure them that I'm not costing them big bucks for once, and see how they want to handle things. The darling bloodsuckers just can't drag their feet; this all has to come down on or before Friday morning, while we still have him on our home turf." House thought for a moment. "We also need Foreman to successfully twist the arm of one doctor from St. James and he in turn, two others; they have to take back that preposterous piece of crap they squeezed out, otherwise known as the report they came up with for Hunter to present to the court."
"What about going to child services and the DA?" Lydia asked as she brought her legs up underneath her.
"Again, I'll defer to legal as long as they don't um and er themselves to death or take out their hankies and start mopping their collective brows." House picked up his drink, slid down to where Lydia was sitting, put his arm around her and pulled her in for a kiss. "Here's to us," he said after leaning over to pick up Lydia's water and handing it to her. "The team of Dr. House and Dr. Strohman: long may they reign in the worlds of medicine and love." They clinked their respective beverage containers together, although Lydia somewhat reluctantly. She averted her eyes from House as she sipped her water. He noticed her hesitance at his toast and the faraway look in her eyes now.
"Hey, Fraulein," he said gently as placed two fingers under her chin and turned her face to his. "Are you OK?"
"I…I'm fine," she said taking a deep breath. "I guess I'm just tired." She hesitated for a moment, then looked at House. "Greg, I'm never going to be a doctor; that chance has passed for me. I have a very hard time accepting that sometimes. I get so mad that I didn't get someone to stay with my parents for one or two days a week, taken one course at time, put in two hours a week into my clinical time, something, anything that could have brought me closer to what I had worked so hard to achieve. I would have been the first woman in my family to graduate college." She reached up and wiped away a tear. "I think it's very cute that you keep saying 'Dr. Strohman,' but…"
"Lydia, I was serious about you going back to school," House said as he stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "You were obviously fantastic at what you did and you had a passion for it. You still do. You can't let that sit and fester inside of you. I was serious when I said that Wilson and I can help you."
"Were you serious when you said that James would do it just to be near Annie?" House smiled.
"Yeah, Wilson has a bad case of puppy love. Good thing he's paper trained." Lydia giggled as she put her head onto House's shoulder.
"Why do you always make fun of him so? It's not nice."
"Look, if I don't like someone, I either become a total jerk toward them or I do my best to ignore them completely; they're not worth my time. But if I like someone, which is a rare thing, I break chops. Gives me a selection of verbal sparring partners to keep me amused."
"I should feel very honored," said Lydia, "You broke my chops with the first sentence you ever said to me."
"I wasn't breaking chops; you were too heavy on the right foot that day. I can still hear the high 'C' reverberating through my head." Lydia picked her head up and gave House a dirty look. He mimicked the face she made until she laughed, then placed a gentle kiss on her nose and moved down to her lips. After a minute there, he started to venture further.
"Greg, it's getting very late. I don't want to start what we can't finish."
"Oh, I'd have no problem finishing it," he said seductively as he put her hand on his crotch. She squealed and quickly pulled her hand back.
"Gregory House! I thought your leg was hurting you," she exclaimed.
"Lydia…you never told me your middle name…Strohman, it's all your fault. You made it feel better," House said as he ran his fingers through her hair. "So, what is you middle name?"
"Guess." House thought for a moment.
"Marie, after you mother." Lydia nodded. "That wasn't hard to figure out." Moving her head back on to House's shoulder, Lydia let out a sigh.
"Greg, does James know what happened to Annie?" she asked.
"Yeah. He was intrigued when I mentioned you had a single best friend. The pickings have been slim since he tried to get back with the first ex-Mrs. Wilson. After he met Annie this morning, I had to put a bib on him to catch the drool. As we were driving over to check out your new digs, I filled him in. He's duly impressed with both of you." Lydia picked her head up.
"You told him about me, too?"
"What I knew up to that point," House said as he tightened his arm around her. "He was amazed at the devotion you showed, going to see Annie for all those years." Lydia shrugged.
"Annie would do it for me. And I have a feeling you and James would do the same for each other." House squirmed a bit.
"Let's just say that Wilson's been a bit better at that kind of stuff than I have over the years." If Lydia had any reaction, she kept it to herself. "But between the fact that she played with the big boys in Philly, to her surviving the attack and trying to protect you for all those years, I think he kind of fell into the abyss of intense like."
"So, he does want to ask her out." House gave her a look.
"Are you kidding? He's already programmed algorithms into his iPhone to figure out the best way to approach the subject with her."
"Well…what about a double date?" House pulled back a little.
"As long as it's not go-karts," he said very quickly.
"I don't see why it would be go-karts, but we can avoid them if there's an issue," she said cautiously. "Why…"
"I'll explain it another time. So if we shake the Magic Eight Ball hard enough, the answer would be 'It's a possibility'?"
"If he suggests to her that we go on a double date, I know the answer would be yes. It's not that she doesn't trust James; quite the opposite, she's very comfortable with him. It's other people, strangers, that she's still uneasy with. If we're with her, it will give her an extra level of confidence. Just tell him to say that he wants the two of them to go out to dinner with the two of us, and it will be fine."
"Cool, I'll clue him in when I see him later." Lydia groaned and moved to sit up and away from the comfort of House's arms.
"That later is going to come sooner than we think. I have a little more time than you do in the morning, but I think we both need to go get some rest. Why don't you finish that off so I can rinse the glass?" she said indicating his whiskey. House took a gulp and emptied the glass. Lydia took it from him and headed for the kitchen.
"I'm just going to turn off the lights and I'll be right in," she said motioning with her head in the direction of the bedroom. House nodded, stood up and headed to the room. Lydia cleaned the glass, dried her hands and flicked the light switch into the off position. Heading over to the box that held her music, she took out the sheet music that she originally was looking for, when her copy of "Pinocchio" prompted House's epiphany.
House never ceased to amaze her; she knew he was brilliant, but there was something in the way that House thought, something in the way his brain was wired, that made him absolutely fascinating. And undeniably hot; intelligence was very, very sexy, at least to her. She closed up the box, turned off the lamp in the living room and put her music on the desk by the door so she could grab it in the morning. Now for bed, she thought. Lydia picked up her water bottle from the coffee table and stopped for a moment as a thought came into her head. The child should be evaluated as soon as possible, not only because the evaluation would support the case, but knowing how long it can take to set up a program of the therapies needed, the sooner they started on things, the better. Lydia had been staring at the floor as she walked to the bedroom, concentrating more on the case then where she was going.
"Hon," she called out as she reached the doorway, still staring at the ground, "I was thinking: can you arrange for therapists to come in and start the process of evaluating your patient?" she asked as she turned into the room and approached the bed. She was so absorbed in her thoughts, that didn't notice that House wasn't lying on the bed, but when there was no response, she picked her head up.
"Greg?" There was no response. She hadn't noticed if the bathroom door was open or closed as she came down the hall, so she turned to check; as she did, House sprang out from behind the bedroom door and with a couple of quick, belabored steps, grabbed her and pushed her on to the bed.
"Ah, Fraulein; at last you are in my clutches and I'm never letting you go," House said in a German accent. He began kissing her repeatedly on her lips, cheeks, ears, neck…anything that wasn't squirming to avoid the very pleasant assault being unleashed.
"Greg...mm…Greg…we… have… to… go… to…bed…" House was planting every other kiss on her lips so she couldn't protest very well.
"That's exactly where I'm trying to get you," he said continuing with his best impression of Lydia.
"Your leg," she said very quickly in between kisses.
"My leg is doing fine, see?" House took her hand and placed it on his groin as he had done earlier in the evening, then continued kissing her.
"I...don't mean…your …third leg…Greg, stop!" Lydia spoke with such intensity that it startled House and he immediately halted his activity.
"Are you OK?" he asked in his normal voice. His left arm and hand were pinned down on the bed by Lydia's upper body, but with his right hand he gently traced the contours of her face, ears and neck.
"I'm fine," she said. "You wouldn't let me talk."
"That's because I knew you would say something to stop me from my mission."
"Your mission?"
"Yeah," House said moving his head up next to hers. "To make sure you have extremely pleasant dreams," he whispered in her ear. Lydia shivered from the sensation of his breath.
"I've had pleasant dreams since we met at Mayfield," she said. "Thinking about you took away all those nightmares I used to have." House could only imagine what those nightmares entailed. "Greg, believe me, I am not saying no because I want to, but your leg…"
"…is feeling fantastic. I'm sure it's a combo of that stuff that smells like the endorphins from a rabid raccoon and these very talented hands of yours," House said as he kissed the back of her hand. "But whatever it is, my leg feels great." Lydia broke into a huge smile at House's words.
"I am so glad," she said reaching up and running her hand down his neck and back. "All I wanted to do was take some of the pain away." House closed his eyes and Lydia could see that he was getting choked up.
"You've done that," he said in a whisper, "more than you could ever realize." Lydia became teary as House moved in closer and began kissing her over and over again. And as he made his way down her neck, she became aware that the word 'stop' had left her vocabulary….
The blaring of a car horn and the screeching of brakes startled Lydia out of the light sleep she was in. All that flashed through her mind was the sight of her grandmother's rocker hitting the ground and the approaching car slamming into it. She put her hand on her chest and took several deep breaths before she could focus and recognize that she was in House's bedroom. She lay back on the bed and turned to look at House; except he wasn't there. The shower wasn't going, but she could smell the coffee brewing in the kitchen. What time was it? She picked her head up and looked at the clock radio on House's night stand: six fifty-one. Knowing that House kept the clock set ten minutes fast, which he usually ignored in his timing of things, meant that it was six forty-one. How did the coffee start already? Lydia realized House must have gotten up and kicked it off early. She was a little disappointed; as much as the cool sheets felt good on her bare skin, the feel of House's arms around her would be much nicer. Whatever the reason he wasn't there, she was sure he thought it was important.
Lydia became aware of music being softly played; it was coming from the living room. While it sounded familiar, it was definitely a variation on a tune she knew. She listened for a moment and finally recognized the song. Lydia smiled as she sat up and looked around for where House had tossed her pajamas; she was paying attention to other things when they were removed. Giving up, she got out of bed and reached into her overnight bag for a pair of yoga pants and a camisole top and changed into them. Slipping her feet into a pair of flats, she quickly pulled the covers up and made a mental note to ask House where he kept a change of bed linens. Satisfied that the bed looked good, she headed to the living room.
As she got the end of the hallway, Lydia stopped and leaned against the wall, a broad smile on her face. There, sitting at the piano was House, playing what she finally figured out was a song from "Pinocchio," but it was his own beautiful arrangement. She wanted to go right over to him, but she was afraid he'd stop playing and she was enjoying listening to him far too much. She couldn't believe it when he told her that he had very limited lessons as a child and what she was hearing was natural, raw talent. Her desire to go over and kiss him finally outweighed her listening pleasure and she started to walk over to the piano. When she got close, House began to sing.
"When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are, anything your heart desires will come to you." Lydia sat down on the end of the piano bench with her back to the keyboard as House sang the last words of the song directly to her.
"And he sings, too," she said giving him a kiss. She reached over and wrapped her arms around him in a hug; he responded in kind.
"I think it's a bit more like warbling than singing," House said as he gave Lydia a kiss.
"Call it what you want, I liked it. You're up early; that's not like you," she said as she stroked the side of his face. "Showered and dressed. Is everything OK?" House nodded.
"I was just impatient. I slept fine and had some really hot dreams to boot," he said giving Lydia a smile. "But my mind was going overtime; I figured out what the approach should be given any of the various scenarios that can play out, good or bad. And I was listening to you last night, even though it may have seemed otherwise. I know which of the therapists in the hospital would be best to evaluate the kid and write out an IEP. They'll put the mother in touch with the county for Early Intervention services. Hunter has raked in some major bucks over the years, most of it ill-gotten gains. He's probably going to have to spend a chunk of that money in legal fees alone. As a resident of the county, the kid's entitled to the services, rich or poor; let the mother hold on to whatever she can." Lydia tilted her head to the side.
"It's difficult for some to believe, but underneath that hard outer shell, is a great big mush."
"Do me a favor; let's keep that little delusion of yours between us. I don't need to have my reputation ruined any more than it's already being sullied by my falling in love with you." Lydia's mouth dropped open and she put her hands on her hips.
"I'm sullying your reputation?" she questioned. House gave her a look.
"Chill. I'm not talking about you; I'm talking about the fact that I'm capable of an emotion like love. Anybody who knows me has only seen it for real once before and I managed to screw that up." House stood up from the piano and walked around the end of the bench until he was standing in front of Lydia. "But I have no intention of letting that happen again." He extended his right hand, palm up to her; she took it and he pulled her up to him.
"Ich liebe dich," Lydia said as she placed her hands on his back and gave House a hug.
"Ich liebe dich, auch," he replied as he copied her gesture. House shook his head. "Yesterday was one hell of a day," he said as he nuzzled her hair with his face.
"Yes it was," Lydia agreed, "and I think we did a very good job of surviving it."
"I told you we make a good team," he said as he started to kiss the back of her neck.
"Mmm…Yes, but you also told me everybody lies," she said as she wriggled to move away from his lips.
"Will you hold still? You're making this harder than it has to be," he said with a grin as he tried to maneuver to gain access to her neck again.
"Greg, James…" Knock, knock. "…is here right now," she said as she moved away from him and headed toward the door of the apartment. Pulling it open to reveal Wilson standing there, she stepped aside and gestured for him to come in with a sweep of her hand.
"Guten Morgen, Herr Doktor," Lydia said with a smile. "Was ist neu?" Wilson stepped into the apartment appearing a little dazed. He looked over at House and then back at Lydia.
"What happened?" He looked back to House. "I mean, what did you do to her that she thinks she's not in New Jersey anymore?"
"He put me on cloud nine," Lydia said before House could answer. "Good morning, James." She gave him a peck on the cheek and closed the apartment door. Wilson shook his head.
"I don't want to know," he said holding up his hand.
"Oh, but you need to; the best way to learn is by example." House had walked over and stood behind Lydia. "Most people think it's best to start with the lips; however, the neck also provides easy access to the desired nether regions," he said as he kissed her neck.
"Greg!" Lydia said freeing herself. "You haven't even gathered up the files and put them in your backpack. Now go take care of that."
"What and deny my best friend a valuable lesson in the art of how to make a woman happy?"
"If I may be so bold as to venture, you never have had too much exhibition time in that branch of the arts," Wilson noted. House made a face.
"True; but this," he said running his fingers down Lydia's cheek, "is going to be my masterpiece." House gave her a kiss, which made her smile; but she didn't allow the gesture to cloud her judgment.
"Gehe!" she commanded pointing down the hallway.
"Daaad, Mom's yelling at me again," House said sounding like a little kid.
"I'm not even sure what she just said, but… listen to your mother!" Wilson said. House padded down the hall like a kid being sent to his room, which essentially he was. Wilson turned to Lydia.
"How….?" he questioned.
"I should ask you," she said. "You've been dealing with him longer than I have."
"And he's never been happier," House called out from the bedroom.
"I know I never have," Lydia replied. "James, can I get you some coffee?"
"No, thanks. I told House when I spoke to him earlier that I wanted to stop at either the bagel place or Dunkin' Donuts on the way in to the hospital."
"Good idea; you both should make sure you eat something today. I know Greg was starving when he got home. Would you mind if I got a cup?" she asked.
"No, of course not," Wilson said as he followed Lydia in the direction of the kitchen. "So, Pinocchio led House to his epiphany." Lydia laughed as she took a mug out of the closet.
"I think it was more my dancing that did it." She put the cup on the counter and began moving her arms and smiling and laughing the way she had last night. Wilson stood in the doorway with his mouth agape.
"I don't….that is exactly the way the kid moves," Wilson exclaimed. "Exactly." Lydia stopped.
"Really?"
"Absolutely. Wow…I still don't understand how he got from that to Angelman's Syndrome, but you imitated the kid perfectly." Lydia shook her head.
"I don't understand how he thinks, either; but it's one of the things I love about him." Wilson smiled.
"I have to thank you….he's still House, there's no doubt about that," he said rolling his eyes, "but I have never seen him like this; it's like the humanity switch has been turned on and…he's happy. As his best friend, and someone who never thought it would happen, I'm overjoyed to see it."
"Me too," Lydia said with a grin.
"Fraulein," House called out.
"Ja?"
"I wrapped the pieces of the rocker up in plastic garbage bags to protect them on their journey in Wilson's car." Lydia walked past Wilson and over to where the rocker fragments had been. Everything was neatly bagged up. "I figured they didn't need to get any more damaged than they already had and with the way Wilson drives…." House said as he emerged from the hallway. Wilson shook his head as he bent down to pick up the largest of the bags.
"Annie told me about the rocker and how upset you were," Wilson said, "I'm sorry."
"I'm so glad she was with me or I would have really lost it. She's wonderful," Lydia said bending down to take up a bag.
"Yes, she is," said Wilson wistfully.
"Here, hand me one of those," House said indicating the remaining bags. Lydia handed one up to him.
"I can handle one more," Wilson said.
"Good, then I've got these two," Lydia replied. She led the way to the front door, opened it and then got the front door to the building. "Which way are you parked?"
"To the left, three cars up," Wilson answered. He hit the clicker to pop the trunk. "I have a blanket in here I can spread out first, so let me do that." House leaned into the trunk to give Wilson a hand and as he did so, he glanced at Lydia as saw her running her hand over the wrapped pieces she held and becoming teary-eyed. He placed the piece he had into the trunk and put his hand on her shoulder.
"Hey, you alright?" he asked. Lydia nodded.
"I'll be fine," she said as she sniffled. She leaned into Wilson's trunk and placed the bags that were in her arms, into the trunk. Wilson closed it down and they stepped back up onto the sidewalk.
"Well, good luck in your interviews today," Wilson said.
"Thank you. And thank you so much for taking care of my rocker while I figure out what I'm going to do with it. It's very sweet of you." Wilson looked down at the street.
"Could I ask a favor of you?" he asked.
"Certainly."
"Do you think in talking to Annie, that you might be able to work the fact that I'm a sweet guy and a wonderful person into the conversation?" Wilson asked.
"I can't believe you're asking Lydia to lie for you," commented House.
"Greg!" Lydia admonished. She turned to Wilson and put her hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, James; she already knows." Wilson opened his eyes wide and looked surprised.
"Really? She does? I mean…she thinks…"
"Down, boy," House said rolling his eyes. "Yenta, here has some suggestions; I'll tell you about it on the way to the hospital." Wilson looked at Lydia.
"Thanks." He gave her a kiss on the cheek and hit the clicker to open up the car doors. House opened up the rear passenger door and tossed his backpack inside. Lydia had opened the front door and was waiting for him.
"Have fun rocking 'em out on your interviews," he said to her.
"I think I may have to change that playlist I told you about to something a little more kid friendly; like…something from 'Pinocchio'," she said with a smile. House put his arms around her and gave Lydia a kiss.
"I love you," he said.
"I love you, too." House tossed his cane into the car and then got in himself. He put the window down and put on the seatbelt as Wilson always insisted. Lydia pushed the door closed, then leaned into the car through the open window.
"Boys?" House and Wilson both turned to look at her, "Illegitimi non carborundum." She blew a kiss to the both of them and started to walk back to House's apartment building.
"Did she just say what I think she did?" asked Wilson as he started the car and maneuvered out of the parking spot. House nodded as he watched her disappear inside his doorway.
"Don't let the bastards get you down."